Rise of the Deathstalkers
by Soulfire79
Summary: A story describing the order of the Deathstalkers, elite assassins of the Horde. Specifically it follows the rise of a certain rogue by the name of Magser. Please read/review.


**Rise of the Deathstalkers**

I of course do not own anything Warcraft related. I have made up most of the specifics about the Deathstalkers. Please read and review! Good reviews help me write faster!

Deathstalkers

Deathstalkers. The very name struck fear into the hearts of others, and rightfully so. Many knew what they were, though few knew the specifics. They are the elite Forsaken assassins, a deadly force employed by the Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. They strike quickly and without warning, leaving nothing but corpses in their wake. They are the clandestine arm of the Horde, operating in the shadows. No one knows their full goals, only that they are ruthless, and deadly efficient.

Prologue 

Magser walked quickly down the hallway, intent upon his destination. All around him was the hustle and bustle of Undercity. Vendors hawked their wares to passerby, as the numerous denizens either walked to their destinations or stopped and browsed the items for sale, from commonplace to exotic. Those that spotted Magser quickly made way, the distinctive outfit of the Deathstalkers setting him apart from the rabble. It still took a lengthy amount of time to reach the Rogues Quarter.

Nodding to the other Deathstalkers in the area, Magser moved to the entrance of the Deathstalker Coven. I walked to the plain looking section of wall behind a pile of boxes, blocked off from the view of anyone not a Deathstalker, even other Forsaken. I reached up, tapping the bricks in quick succession. There was a low grinding noise, and the section of wall ahead of me lifted upwards, revealing a heavy metal door. A small keyhole adorned the center, and I reached in my pocket to retrieve my own key, unlocking the imposing gateway and stepping inside. Behind me, the door swung shut, and another grinding noise signaled the closing of the wall.

A short walk brought me to the meeting room. I walked in, and knelt on the floor. Three Forsaken sat at the table ahead of me, each wearing dark cowls and seeming to blend into the surrounding darkness. They were the Three Daggers, the top assassins of the Deathstalker order. They epitomized what it meant to be a Deathstalker, becoming faceless killers. Their identities were kept secret from all but each other, creating cover identities for day to day life. They had been lower ranked Deathstalkers at one point, but their deaths had been staged to look like failed missions or victims from assassination themselves. To ascend to the rank of Grandmaster Deathstalker, one did not only fake their own death, but also killed a Grandmaster and took their place. Therefore, the Three Daggers were the only ones who knew how often a Dagger was replaced. To those of lower rank, each dagger seemed to be eternally the same undead, never changing.

Magser had been specifically called to meet with the Three Daggers by their own request. It sent chills down his spine; a successful mission for the Three usually meant a promotion. Currently, Magser was a Deathstalker Captain, though he had been eyeing a job as a Master Deathstalker for some time now. The Three probably knew this, as they knew everything else about every one of their agents. They didn't get to their positions by being ignorant.

Magser was left kneeling for quite a while before one of the Three spoke. "You may stand, Captain. We have business to discuss." Magser nodded, standing and coming to attention before his superiors.

"Who do the Three wish dead?" he inquired.

The Dagger to Magser's right answered, saying, "I like this one, he cuts right to the chase. No abasement. It's quite… refreshing."

The undead to on the far left snorted. "Just because his jaw didn't fall off when he saw us doesn't mean he's the most skilled rotbrain in Azeroth."

"Please, close your idiotic mouths, both of you." said the one in the center. Turning to Magser, he said, "We didn't invite you here to witness our bickering. Yes, there is a job we'd like you to do. Some wet work that needs to be taken care of." The Dagger reached below the table and drew forth a scroll. He deftly threw it to Magser, who just as agilely caught and unrolled the parchment. "The mark's name is Reslan. A night elf, high up captain of the Sentinels. He's been causing us trouble since who knows when, though he's been smart enough to stay out of our crosshairs. Until now." said the Dagger, a grin crossing visible beneath his black baklava. "He's moved into Silverwing Hold, to better direct the Alliance's remaining forces in Ashenvale. Needless to say, now that he's pinned down, we can move in. Or rather, you."

"I understand." I hesitated, but it seemed necessary to ask. "Should I take a team with me? It seems like a weighty assignment, with just one Deathstalker to undertake it."

The Daggers exchanged glances. The one on the left addressed me this time, saying, "We know of your… unique history with Deathsquads." That remark stung, but it was valid. The last time I had undertaken a group assignment, it had been nothing short of disastrous. My good friend Mordova had been with me on that assignment. We were trying to sneak in to a small village and assassinate the mayor, a powerful mage. It had been going fine, until Someone failed to notice a simple alarm trap. It had turned into a massacre, with myself and one other as the only survivors out of five stalkers. I had come close to losing my position (and life, as you don't leave the Deathstalkers) but the other survivor maintained it was only his fault (he had tripped the alarm), and was executed. I had lost my friend that day, with nothing but ashes left of him.

"Nevertheless," continued the Dagger, "This assignment is too risky for a single Deathstalker to undertake. You may assemble a Deathsquad, with no more than three other Deathstalkers. Now don't delay. Every second you waste is one that could be used by those night elves to break our grip on Ashenvale." I nodded, then bowed to my superiors and left the room.

I went to my next stop, the barracks. While we undead needed no sleep, the barracks was where many Deathstalkers passed the time, training, storytelling, or even gambling. In other words, it was a great place to gather recruits for a dangerous mission. I had a specific group in mind, and I slowly moved about, locating my targets.

It was the work of just a few minutes to gather my group and move to a private room. Each of those I had gathered were master killers, some at range, and some up close. I would need both to succeed. I gave them a quick briefing, telling them just that this was a mission, not that it was from the top. A younger Deathstalker inquired, "When do we leave?"

I smiled. "Be ready at first light tomorrow. We go to Orgrimmar as soon as dawn breaks." The recruits nodded, and left to prepare, leaving me to contemplate. With this job, I would regain my peers' respect. And perhaps finally get my promotion. The thought filled me with glee. Fishing out a dagger, I aimed it at a bull's-eye and threw. Dead center.


End file.
